


Make the sound the sea makes

by queerly_it_is



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bottom Derek Hale, Cock Rings, Consensual Kink, Dildos, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-25
Updated: 2013-01-25
Packaged: 2017-11-26 19:41:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/653737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queerly_it_is/pseuds/queerly_it_is
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny gets the impression that Migeul - or whatever his real name is - doesn’t get this very often.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make the sound the sea makes

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Stop, Drop, Howl on Livejournal, for the prompt of _Boys and their toys_ by dizzylu.
> 
> Usual thanks to everyone on twitter for the cheering on, and undying gratitute to nightreveals for the beta and help with the idea.

Danny gets the impression that Mig- whatever his real name is, doesn’t get this very often.

If the tight clench of his shoulders through the - admittedly hot - leather jacket as they leave the market is anything to go by, Danny could almost wonder if he’s _ever_ gotten it. But there was too much blatant history under the surprised-but-trying-to-hide-it expression he’d worn when Danny said yes, and the wary look of someone who’s starving but won’t admit the weakness of feeling actual hunger.

If Danny said he wasn’t kind of intruiged along with turned the fuck on, he’d be lying through his teeth.

| |

By the time they reach his place, the word Danny’s settled on to describe not-Miguel is ‘complicated’. It’s got a nice, neutral sound, one that rings truer than just ‘hot’ or something too real, along the lines of ‘hurting’.

At least his house is guaranteed to be quiet for the duration, and looking over at his unexpected ‘date’ in the driver’s seat of the sleek black Camaro, Danny can’t say he regrets passing on the family summer vacation in favour of just having some time to himself without being asked if he’s okay, or if he’s heard from Jackson or whatever else.

Danny’s room is a warmly-coloured, fairly open space being made brighter by the low-flung rays of sunlight spilling through the window. He briefly thinks about drawing the curtains, but darkness doesn’t really strike him as fitting for... whatever this is.

“So I missed your name,” Danny finally says, standing by the bed. It’s too deliberate to be called casual, but he’s peeling his shirt off as he says it, so hopefully it all evens out.

No answer.

“C’mon,” he says, risking the slight teasing tone along with the few steps closer he takes across the carpet. “Whatever it is, I’m guessing it suits you better than Miguel?”

There’s a pinch to Mr Mystery’s mouth now, like he’s tasted something sour, and standing there not-quite-awkward - he comes across as too aware to be awkward, but... unsure. Rusty. But his shoulders bunch a little again and he finally says “Derek” like he’s handing over his every hope and dream on a fragile platter.

Danny remembers reading somewhere that there’s supposed to be power in names, and whether you buy the mysticism or not, he gets the point well enough; it’s written all over Derek’s face right now, plain as day.

Complicated, definitely.

“Derek,” Danny repeats, close enough to touch now. His hand trails up Derek’s side, warm through the softness of his shirt. “I’m guessing there was something particular you wanted?”

He says it easy and light, but there’s curiousity in it too. He’s been trying to guess Derek’s ‘thing’ the whole way over.

There’s a _click_ when Derek swallows, and his eyes are looking in a lot of places that aren’t at Danny’s face.

“I just want-” he starts, and then gives up with a painful-looking clench of his jaw and a breath pushed through his nose. Danny’s hand goes to his shoulder and squeezes, trying to keep him from whittling himself more brittle than he already is.

“It’s okay,” he says, which isn’t a great idea when he doesn’t know what ‘it’ is, but he who hesitates is lost, right? “I get it,” he adds when Derek finally looks at him, and that part he finds he actually means. Because this whole thing has the ring of something you can only say to a stranger _because_ they’re a stranger, and pouring more concrete reality onto it seems unfair somehow.

He hadn’t noticed the splash of different colours in Derek’s eyes until now, but with Derek finally looking _at_ him there’s enough light hitting them to see where the green turns to blue and the blue to gold. There’s a term for it, but Danny can’t remember what it is right then.

The stare Derek’s aiming at him is almost intense enough for Danny pick up the fidget himself, but there’s less of a crease between his eyebrows, and under Danny’s hand he feels less like he’s about to bolt.

“Take this off,” Danny says, pulling some of the shirt between two of his fingers, tugging just a little. It doesn’t sound like a suggestion because Danny hadn’t meant it to.

Derek’s body is basically as distractingly perfect as Danny remembers, more, now that he’s free to look and Derek’s getting bathed in the light still slanting its way through the narrow blinds. He’s all tight skin pulled over muscle and dusted with hair as dark as it is on his head and jaw. Take their practically nonexistent height difference and the obvious strength Derek’s working with, and Danny can’t help but think of struggling with him ‘til Danny’s on his stomach and the weight’s pressing him down.

That’s probably a little further past what Derek’s thinking of though. Or at the least, if Danny’s reading Derek right at all, it’s the wrong way around for now.

His hand trails to the end of Derek’s shoulder, then around the shape of his bicep, then his forearm and down to his hand.

Curving his fingers around the back of Derek’s hand, tips pressing into the dry warmth of his palm, Danny pulls his arm away from his side and presses his hand against the bulge of his dick, shoving the fabric of his pants outward.

The effect of it rolls along Derek’s body in a slow wave, from his hips and his hand to the rest of him, like ripples on still water or watching a building get demolished in slow motion.

“See?” Danny says, like the way Derek’s fingers are shaping to the line of his cock is just some everyday occurrence, as if he can’t feel precome sticking his briefs to the head, probably wetting through in a dark blotch. “It’s fine, okay? Whatever you want.”

Derek’s eyes dart back up from the motion of his hand to meet Danny’s again by way of a pause in the centre of Danny’s chest.

“Seriously,” Danny says, knowing his voice is starting to trip on its way past his lips. Danny steps into the pressure against his dick, watches Derek’s lips move apart on a shaky little breath. “S’why you’re here, yeah? Dealer’s choice; my hands, my mouth.” A little closer again, the heat from Derek’s bare torso brushing his almost physically. “My dick.” Derek’s palm stutters against the shape of it, right on cue. “Even whatever toys I’ve got lying around.”

Derek makes a noise at that, small, but compared to the wary silence he’s had draped over him most of the time it’s like a gunshot in the heaviness of a church.

“Plenty of things I could use on you,” he follows with, trying for the dirty talk even though it’s not usually his speed. “Open you up, keep you open, not let you come until I want you to.”

Another low sound pushes out from somewhere deep in Derek’s throat, punchy and almost like pain. His hand grips around Danny’s cock, fingers kneading.

Seems they have a winner.

Danny’s hand makes a darker five-point shape between the muscles of Derek’s chest, and he earns himself another gasped sound when he moves it across enough brush over a nipple.

Trembling hopefully less than Derek can see, Danny makes himself step back and drops his fingers to unclasp his belt and thread it out of his jeans, ignoring the want to press the heel of his own palm into his aching dick.

 A metal _clack_ sounds like an echo as Derek follows him in undressing, the motion a little hurried like he’d forgotten he was wearing anything anyway.

Danny’s jeans and briefs endure the kicking to somewhere near the foot of the bed, and then he’s just left staring at Derek peeling his underwear down strong thighs and off the curved shapes of feet that Danny catches himself calling _elegant_ in his head, like there’s motion built right into him.

Stripped totally bare, Derek is kind of inhumanly gorgeous. He obviously works like hell to keep himself that way, but he carries it like all that coiled power was meant to be there, like it was always there and Derek just got rid of the parts that didn’t fit.

He’d laugh at himself for thinking of Derek the way Michelangelo described sculpting marble, but there’s just too much truth to it, Derek’s cock hard and thick and uncut, catching the light in a drop of precome smudging itself around the head.

There’s something there too, awareness but not comfort. He knows how he looks, but the problem is there’s not much else he knows.

Danny’s got some experience dealing with that.

A couple of seconds blur past where Danny honestly feels too spoiled for choice, before he moves into Derek’s space again and kisses him, kisses him like he’s been planning it since the market and not like he’s just realised they haven’t yet.

It doesn’t so much turn filthy as it does _start_ filthy and then slip towards obscene, Derek’s lips sliding between Danny’s before opening around them, tongue brushing along Danny’s and the slick-wet sounds of it filling the tiny space between them. Danny licks into Derek’s mouth and along the ridges of his palate, and Derek moans like he tried to stop it and couldn’t.

Danny’s hands settle at Derek’s hips, fingers slipping over and between the dips of muscle and the shape of the bones under them, gripping tighter when Derek’s gasp rolls along his tongue.

The sounds build in Danny’s ears until he pushes them together, stepping forward as he tugs Derek in by the hips, Derek’s dick rubbing up his stomach and against the side of Danny’s own, slight catch of the flared head where Derek’s all blood-hot skin and damp with precome. Danny wants to kneel down, see the flush of Derek’s cock when he puts his fingers on him and pulls, the extra blurt of sticky-wet probably trapped tight in there, wants to wriggle his tongue in alongside the head and feel Derek shake apart above him.

He rolls his whole body forward, the shifting scrape of the hair on Derek’s chest encouraging him to do it again, to do it harder, grinding them together almost frantically.

Turning his head out of the kiss, lips feeling hot and swollen, bruised from Derek’s mouth, Danny pants a little against the prickle of Derek’s cheek, like needlefire that takes his breath.

“You should get on the bed,” he says, words turning into hot smears but reaching Derek just the same, judging from the breath that skitters along Danny’s ear and the side of his neck, the way he can feel Derek’s cock twitch.

He’d almost forgotten about the tattoo, the three perfectly linked spirals. Again he knows there’s a word for it, but it’s paved over by the rush of blood in his ears and the way his mouth’s itching to get back on Derek’s skin. His eyes track down the arc of Derek’s spine and the flex of his thighs, the perfect tight shape of his ass.

Danny kind of wants to get Derek on his stomach, pull him open with both hands and get his face in there, but there’s something about the idea of watching Derek’s face as he finally lets the sensation in that appeals more.

He kneels up alongside the recline of Derek’s body, relaxed except for all the ways he isn’t, eyes following Danny’s hands as he pulls the bottom drawer out of the dresser and sets it on the floor, some of the contents rolling and knocking into the sides.

It hasn’t been _that_ long since he’s used them, but it’s been a while since he used them on anyone but himself.

The dildo that he drops on the mattress is matte black, sexier for how simple it is. The cock ring he takes out is plain white, nitrile, bought by an ex who liked the way it looked against Danny’s skin. When Danny dropped the guy, he kept the toy, and now he’s thinking it’ll suit Derek just as well, white against that all dark hair.

“Any objections?” he asks, raising an eyebrow just to be kind of an asshole about it, trying to draw Derek into the moment a little more.

Derek shakes his head when he manages to stop looking at the fake cock and the bottle of lube next to it. Danny can get why Derek went for this instead of actually getting fucked, even if Danny’s dick’s protesting the loss a little by leaking a string of precome onto his thigh.

He’s always enjoyed being able to fuck someone and still pay attention to the rest of them, using that bit of extra control to drive the other person crazy, while he’s left free to use his mouth or his dick in other ways. Plus he’s guessing there’s a whole host of reasons for the choice of toys that Derek doesn’t want to go into, or he’d be with someone who knows the first thing about him.

The cock ring sits tight around the base of Derek’s dick, pulling at the swell of his balls and trapping the red flush there until it goes deeper, darker. Danny can’t help but press fingers to the underside, trace the thick vein and toy with the edge of skin that hides the head until they come away wet and clingy.

He urges Derek’s legs wider until he can kneel between them, reaches out and strokes up the inside of a thigh through the crinkle of hair until Derek shivers.

Danny presses down at Derek’s taint with a thumb, sets Derek squirming just a little before he moves back up the tight skin to his even tighter hole, tugs at it with the flat pad like the swirl of his print’ll get left behind.

“You ever do this to yourself?” he asks, and he’s impressed how idle he makes it sound.

“Sometimes,” Derek says, watching him with his eyes half-lidded and dark, chest going up and down with breaths he’s clearly focusing on the rhythm of.

Danny smiles crookedly and smears lube over his fingers, going back to Derek’s ass and tracing around it, the clench that goes with the jerk of Derek’s cock oddly pretty, the shine of lube going silvery with the light glancing off it, highlighting all the little crinkles in the skin.

When he pushes in to the first knuckle, Derek’s thighs shake before they go still, and then spread wider around Danny on the bed. A clear enough signal even if there’re no words to go with it.

Derek’s burning hot on the inside, so tight Danny curses under his breath, can’t help but think how it’d feel gripping his dick, no matter that that’s not the plan for now.

Danny’s not thinking about a next time. He’s trying his best not to think too hard about _this_ time, like if he doesn’t keep it all far enough into his periphery it’ll dissolve, like trying to remember a dream or hold onto sand.

“You need to be fingered open?” he asks, watching the pink inside of Derek’s mouth when his lips shape around a heavy gasp. What he means to ask is if Derek’s _wants_ to be opened like this, or if he’s more the fuck-me-open type, but as his finger sinks into Derek’s body to the last knuckle the thought gets a little jumbled.

Whatever answer Derek was going to give dies in his throat when Danny twists his finger and rubs that swell of a gland inside him, more slick adding to the shiny mess of around the the tip of his dick, balls trying to twitch inside the ring.

Danny works another finger works past the tight clutch of Derek’s hole, wriggles it into him and turns against the pressure, Derek’s stomach muscles twitching and a sound like an aborted whine following his breath.

“S’a good look on you,” Danny says, liking the way it makes Derek pull a lip between his teeth. “How’s it feel?”

“Full,” Derek mutters, then “Good,” with his voice a little higher than Danny would’ve thought, head turning into the bed and teeth dragging fitfully at the sheets, lips parted softly and eyes clenched tight like sharp contrast.

Danny doesn’t mean to be surprised at how into it Derek is, but now that he knows to look, he can tell just how well Derek would take it like it’s written on his skin, stark as the tattoo that marks his back. How much he needs what he plainly isn’t getting.

Danny just doesn’t understand that.

Managing to get lube into his other hand and then his hand onto the toy without stopping the in-out of his fingers, Danny briefly adds a third just so the toy won’t feel as much of a stretch. Derek’s fingers grip and loosen, palms skidding along the sheets.

He presses the tip of the dildo to Derek’s ass even while he’s pulling his fingers back, eyes on the way Derek stays open for it, hole pinker against dark hair and a little puffy now.

The tip, gleaming slick and flared slightly less than a real cock, slips right into him, Danny’s groan covering Derek’s as his ass pulls at it, almost greedy.

Another inch, and Danny has to remember to breath in, the pinch of his bottom lip between his teeth working as a distraction from the needy jerk of his dick between his legs.

 “You don’t-- you don’t have to be so gentle,” Derek says, and Danny would take it is as a genuine request if not for the tone or the sudden stiffness in Derek’s body that definitely wasn’t there a second ago. It’s like he wants gentle but doesn’t; or just doesn’t know what to _do_ with gentle. Like he doesn’t _expect_ it.

When Danny puts his free hand to the the low plane of Derek’s stomach, between the jutting curves of his hips, Derek twitches like he’s trying to fight it, but not because he wants to. He twitches like struggling is all he knows _how_ to do.

Whatever blurred picture Danny’s slowly piecing together of Derek’s life, it’s not exactly done in pretty colours.

“Maybe having to’s not the point,” he says, moving his thumb back and forth in a badly-drawn oval around Derek’s belly button. “Maybe I just want to. Maybe I like seeing you take it slowly; lose it in pieces instead of all at once.”

Derek’s chest falls in jagged drops of a long exhale, and some of that bunched-up tightness seeps out of him, until he’s blinking up unseeing at the ceiling and Danny’s leaning down to run his mouth along the length of Derek’s cock, feels it swell tighter again against his lips, heat pooling under the skin.

He wraps his fingers around the end of the toy again, pushes and ducks a little to watch Derek’s hole pull around it, stretching wider.

“That’s it,” he mutters out of some instinct or other when Derek doesn’t tighten up on it, hips moving down into the pressure working him open.

He can tell how hard Derek’s trying to keep quiet, to stay in control. He’s gotta do something about that.

On the next inward push, Danny twists the toy in his fingers, aims it up and deliberately slows the motion of his hand until Derek’s letting out a high sound that’s nothing like pain.

“ _That’s_ it,” he says again a little lower, harsher, pulling until just the flare of the thing’s head has Derek’s hole wrapped tight around it and then fucking in with it again, watching the slippery surface as it glides into Derek’s body. There’s lube on his fingers that makes his grip a little unsteady, the pulse of how turned on he is drumming thick like bass under the blood pushing around his veins.

He wonders if he should’ve put the ring on himself instead.

Moving faster, twisting and pushing deeper each time, Danny keeps his eyes trained to Derek’s face, until the fractured-apart and wide-eyed look that says he’s really feeling it stays there. He keeps the angle and goes harder, leans forward and bends his arm a little awkwardly to suck the tip of Derek’s cock between his lips, finally gets his tongue between the head and the sheath of skin.

Derek’s shaking with how hard he’s fighting to stay still, so Danny takes him deeper into his mouth, drags back up to the leaking slit and down to near the base in counterpoint with the movement of his hand, filling Derek up with the dildo right to the ungiving, flat end before drawing back again.

Salty, bittersweet precome clings to his teeth and slides along to the back of his throat, head bobbing and lips twisting, tightening around the head as his tongue traces veins. He’s sucking air through his nose that’s filled with sweat musk and the smell of Derek’s skin, his own dick hard enough to hurt, balls aching and knees protesting the bend he’s got them locked into.

The ache in his fingers is just barely more present than the ache in his jaw, the hot cling of his mouth turning to an itch around them, lips probably slutty-swollen and starkly red by now.

He lets Derek’s cock slap back to his belly with a loud _pop_ , still fucking into Derek with the toy, hand brushing Derek’s full balls with every determined push.

Derek’s face is flushed, sheened with sweat and twisted in the pleasure like he’s got no idea of where he is, skin tinged pink down past the tightness of his nipples, shuddering with every breath he sucks through his bitten lips.

On a hard shove of the plastic dick, Danny leaves it snug in Derek’s ass and removes the cock ring with a fumble of his lube-slippery hand.

Not like a dam breaking, but like the dam was never there and the water just took a while to notice, Derek bows up from the hips in an almost vicious curve, balls tugging up to his body and cock jerking as he pulses.

Come stripes up his chest in thick, long lines of white that stand out starkly against hair and the paler skin under it. Derek’s throat visibly contracts, head thrown back so far the top’s almost flush with the sheets, sweat gathering low down in the hollow between his collarbones and the cut dips between his abs.

Danny has to remind himself to blink.

Finally collapsing flat again, Derek’s breathing is loud and Danny can see the twitch of the pulse at his throat, rapid and strong.

Reaching out, Danny moves Derek’s cock away from his body and jerks him once on a slow pull, another thin dribble of jizz that forms a slick puddle in his navel and a rivulet down his side onto the bed.

Derek whines a little, and Danny finally lets him go, oversensitive flesh slowly going soft along the wiry trail leading to his groin.

The dildo’s mostly slipped out from the way Derek squeezed around it, but Danny takes his time drawing the last inch or so from him anyway, eyes moving between Derek’s hole and the ruined expression on his face. It finally slides free all the way, Derek giving up one last wordless noise.

“I’m gonna come on you,” he mutters as he kneels up between Derek’s still-spread legs, watches another blotchy plume of colour start on Derek’s neck and slowly spread, stopping somewhere around his chest.

Derek’s eyes open as thin slits covering gaping pupil when Danny starts to jerk himself, leftover lube making it wet and his eyes nearly rolling up into his head even while he makes them watch Derek watch him back.

It takes maybe a dozen messy-tight pulls of his hand before Danny’s crying out and shooting onto Derek’s chest and stomach, the still-softening swell of his cock and the rounds of his balls.

Danny’s come slicks down the cuts of Derek’s thighs, some adding to the mess of his ass and the dampness of the sheets under him. His legs shake and his lungs heave, empty. His head’s full of noise and nothing’s in focus.

He feels Derek’s hand on his thigh, fingers squeezing and brushing up and then down towards his knee. Talk about a clear message.

He smiles, and so does Derek.

Danny’s calling that a win.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Alt J's "Dissolve Me"


End file.
